Dream
by Cummunist
Summary: Hashirama keeps dreaming about her new friend. FemHashiMada AU, fluff, sfw. Written for the HashiMada mini bang on tumblr, day 1 : Dream.


It was the same scene again. A clearing in the middle of the forest, thesound of the birds, of a river, not far from there and the soft warmness of the sun on her skin. A gentle wind was making her hair fly around her, as she was walking toward the other person and she tried to run, she tried to join the other quicker, she needed to talk to her again but her feet were so slow and it felt like an eternity before she was able to see her friend's face.

Hashirama couldn't believe it. No, really, since the day she met with Madara, since that precise moment by the river, when they skipped stones and talked, Madara was all around her mind. In everything she was doing, she was always reminded of her friend. Doing the dishes ? She couldn't help but wonder if Madara had to do them too, back to her home. Eating ? Did Madara like the food she was served ? Training .. ? Well, that she was sure Madara was training too.

Here, Madara was sitting in the middle of the flowers and the tall grass and when Hashirama was about to open her mouth, to greet her friend, everything disappeared and her eyes snapped open, only to realize that her brother was shaking her awake.

"Hashi, it's morning !" he called out, a slight frown on his face and watching her with concern. It took a moment for Hashirama to actually process that she had to get out of her bed and begin her day. She wanted to continue this precise dream, she wanted to see Madara again, and to speak with her but it seemed she really couldn't. If Tobirama had to wake her up, it meant that she was probably running late and their father wasn't going to be kind with her if they were late for training. She was lucky he was training her, after all, she was just a girl ..

Quickly, the girl got dressed, skipping her breakfast to make sure they wouldn't lose more time and, holding her brother's hand, they ran in the camp, as fast as possible, until they met with their father and begin with the training.

Butsuma wasn't a good father. He was a good shinobi, for sure and a strong one but the training method he used on his children was just as harsh as if they were adults and Hashirama and Tobirama only had to keep up with it. They couldn't show weakness, they couldn't ask for a pause. "Your enemies won't let you breath" they were told, all day long, "They will never hesitate to kill you".

Hashirama loved to train. She loved to think she could become a shinobi, just like her brothers and it was amazing for her to think she had been given that chance, despite being a girl but this was draining. The abuse, the hits she was receiving .. She wanted to appear strong but sometimes, it was just too much. She knew it was the same for Tobirama too, that her brother kept everything inside, that he never showed much but still, sometimes, she just wanted a break and her meetings with Madara were the perfect occasion.

The first time they met, it had been out of total luck. She wanted to stay by the river, to let the stream clear her thoughts and she saw the other girl, stone skipping and failing. All she had wanted was to help, and give her advice but in the end, she had liked Madara. It was obvious that the other also was a shinobi, she kept throwing her stones as if she was using shuriken, but Hashirama wouldn't say a thing. She had the chance to befriend with Madara, with another girl and this was above all her expectations. Mostly because .. Well, girls were strangely distant with her. Perhaps it was because she was becoming a shinobi ? Or they were scared ?

Madara wasn't scared.

They met again, several times and Hashirama couldn't have imagined a better comfort when her older brother was killed in battle by the Uchiha. They could never speak about him at home, Butsuma would ignore them or just order them to stop talking but with Madara, it was different. Madara could understand her feelings. Madara had lost brothers too.

They were alike. So much alike and Hashirama couldn't help but feel close with the other. Sure, they might be enemies, shinobi clans didn't have much allies after all and not saying their family name was a proof that they both were conscious about that fact. But they both trained hard, harder than anyone else, to prove themselves and, to have found each other and to train together now, despite they both knew they probably would face each other as enemies, one day, proved that they both wanted the same thing. They both wanted peace, and to never see one of their brother die in battle again. They didn't even care if adults kept saying about how glorious those deaths were. Children shouldn't have to die to protect adults beliefs. It should be the other way around.

Hashirama tried hard to train as best as she could, to make sure her father wouldn't pester her too much. Since she was a girl, she had to train twice as hard and even the days she was better than Tobirama, it was never enough. Sometimes, she didn't know what to do anymore but it was alright, because Madara told her that she had to endure the same treatments. Some old tradition, Madara said, if a girl really wanted to become a shinobi, she had to prove herself. But one day, they'd show all the adults. One day, they'd become clan leader and they would show them that being a girl isn't as weakening as they kept saying.

However, as the day was ending and the sun setting, Hashirama had to face her father's wrath and she made sure not to answer to him. It would become worse if she did, and he wouldn't let her eat at all. It was the usual punishment when she disobeyed. But now, all she wanted was to sleep again, to continue the dream Tobirama force her out of and even if it was quite rare that she could dream two nights in a row of the same things, she hoped today was an exception.

And when she was in her bed again, after a good diner and some time with her brother, Hashirama let herself sink in her dreams, going through strange images before Madara appeared to her again.

Just like the previous time she dreamed about her friend, the little Senju first saw her back. Madara was sitting in the middle of the beautiful clearing, the sun was shinning above them and Hashirama could hear the birds singing. And she could smell the flowers, all around them and the touch of the grass on her hands. If Heaven existed, it sure looked like this, or she hoped so. She couldn't think of a most beautiful place and, slowly, letting her hands on her sides and feeling like she had to sit with Madara, she walked toward her friend.

For now, she hadn't seen her face just yet, only her back and it was as if Hashirama was attracted by the other. She needed to meet with that other girl. Maybe it was the lack of social interaction with girls her age that was making her so sensible to Madara's personality, or .. something else but to meet with Madara had been the most amazing thing in her life and she hoped they'd never be apart for now on. It really was unlikely but she could dream, couldn't she ?

Finally facing the other girl, Hashirama sat down on the grass, in front of Madara and smiled, a soft pink shade now flushing her cheeks.

Madara looked beautiful and really foreign at the same time, for the only reason that Madara was wearing a kimono and Hashirama never saw her with anything else but training clothes. Shinobi clothes. The kimono was a beautiful one, with soft colors and spring flowers painted on the silk. Her hair was brushed and braided loosely and Hashirama couldn't help but think how soft it looked. And her face .. ? What could she say about Madara's face ? Her skin looked so pale, yet so soft, her big black eyes were like endless wells and her pink lips seemed to be cherry tree petals, that would have landed there. Madara looked like one of those porcelain dolls, so beautiful, yet so fragile but Hashirama knew better. Madara was far from fragile.

And, never, during their previous meetings, had Madara seemed to even wash her hair and it truly was a dream if she could see her friend so dressed up.

Madara's smile made the Senju's heart flutter a little and she giggled, hiding her blush as she turned her face away and took Madara's hand in hers. "You look like a princess!" the Senju girl exclaimed but no answer came from the other.

It was the first time they were holding hands. To feel Madara's fingers against hers, to feel the warmness and the softness of her skin, it was so innocent but felt just as natural and Hashirama hoped it would never end. To be with her friend, her only female friend and just sit here, being close to her ..

Hashirama didn't know how long it lasted, how long she stayed there with her friend, holding hands and awkwardly looking around, as if words were meaningless, as if the world had stopped around them but, after a while, she decided to go and pick some flowers, hoping to place them in Madara's hair. She didn't know if the other would let her do so, but Madara didn't move when she started, she just looked at her, watched her with interest and kept smiling. It was one soft and graceful smile, nothing like Madara's but it suited her attitude, her kimono and her perfect figure and Hashirama was about to tell her friend how beautiful she was when it all faded and she opened her eyes, once again shaken up by her brother.

With his usual frown, Tobirama sighed and left the room without a word. Today was their free day, Hashirama knew, there would be no training, no chores, nothing and yet, her brother had waken up so early. A strange and scary thought quickly came to her mind, as she wondered if he knew something about the meetings she had with Madara, or if he heard something. Did she speak in her sleep ? Had she whispered Madara's name ?

Now she was thinking about it again, Hashirama relaxed a bit on her mattress and sighed, placing her arms on her face and closing her eyes again. It had been such a wonderful dream. She always felt like her meetings with Madara were too short, she wanted them to last, longer and longer and eventually to stop having to leave. That was so foolish and she knew it wasn't possible but .. But that was what she wanted. Even her dreams were showing so and Hashirama brushed it off, at first, before another thought troubled the peace on her mind.

Why did she keep having those dreams ? She knew well that Madara was the enemy. Even if she didn't have the proof, she could feel it, she could almost name it and yet, she kept wanting to see her friend. Was she even her friend ? Yes, on that, she was certain. Madara wasn't a liar. Madara wasn't toying with her, they found each other on luck and it was surprising that they were able to go along so well, and Hashirama couldn't help but think it might be because she didn't have female friends. No, all she had was Tobirama and some other boys but, to be able to befriend a girl like her, a girl that was training hard, one that could understand every one of her thoughts ..

They were only children, forced to fight a war that wasn't theirs and it had made her close and Hashirama knew she didn't want to leave Madara. No, she .. She wanted to stay with her. It was something more than friendship, it was as if they were sisters .. Or something else, she couldn't put a name on it but .. Well, she had no intention to stop. She was going to meet with Madara, again and again, and today was their next meeting.

Getting herself ready, Hashirama made sure she didn't look weird because of her dream and she was about to leave when she noticed Tobirama looking at her with her frown. She didn't know what was wrong with her brother, he looked so weird lately, as if something bad was about to happen but, after making sure he wasn't going to follow her, she quickly left the camp, easily enough as the adults were doing clan stuff, and rushed to the river, where she found her friend and a soft smile lit up her whole face.

Sure, Madara looked nothing like in her dream. She had dirt on the cheeks, as she already was training, she wasn't wearing a kimono, she wasn't even smiling. She kept beating that poor tree with her fists, moving as swiftly as possible and in grand focus. For a moment, Hashirama wondered if Madara even tried to wear a kimono and the answer probably was no.

Then, words she heard a couple of days earlier came back to her mind and she frowned. She had heard her father talk, during a training session, with some other adults about "Tajima's ugly daughter". Hashirama didn't know who that Tajima might be, there was no one of that name in the Senju clan but as her father mentioned the "ugly daughter" training to become a shinobi, the Senju girl guess he might be talking about Madara. She had never heard of another girl training, after all, it was only her and Madara and it was strange that her father knew about her friend, but it was making Madara even more amazing. Adults knew about her. And her father even said she was "some kind of genius". Well, that, Hashirama could see, even if she always was better. Not by much but enough to always beat Madara, even if it only motivated Madara to fight harder. Harsher.

What she couldn't understand was why her father said Madara was ugly. She was beautiful. Both in her dream and right now, as she was watching her every moves. She didn't have the grace of a princess, for sure, even when she walked, Madara looked like a long haired boy but .. When she was fighting, it looked like she was dancing.

Feeling her chakra, Hashirama smiled as she saw Madara freeze and face her, but her friend smiled softly. "You're late, so I started without you !" she called out, as Hashirama was walking toward her.

"It's okay." Hashirama nodded softly, wanting nothing more but to hold her friend's hand now. But she fought against it. It was weird to want to take Madara's hand, for sure, and Madara would probably laugh at her again, so, she just shrugged it off. They had all the time in the world, to hold hands.

A strange sound forced her out of her thoughts and Hashirama made a face as she saw Madara rub her running nose on her sleeve and as she sniffed hard to try and clear it. That really wasn't lady like, far from how royal and princess-like she had seemed in Hashirama's dream but the Senju girl only sighed and smiled a bit more. That was Madara, with her poor manners and her dirty hands and her unruly hair. That was the Madara she knew, fighting like a boy and chewing with her mouth open and spitting, sometimes.

And in Hashirama's eyes, Madara was a princess.

The princess of her heart, and, soon, the queen of her life.


End file.
